Empty Places
by Jack E. Peace
Summary: (Below Utopia) Set after the film, told in Susanna's POV; her thoughts after escaping the basement. Please R


Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. And, if you wanted to know "Empty Places" comes from the name of a "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" episode  
  
A/N: I'm sure no one has seen this movie ("Below Utopia") but I figured I'd write a story based on it anyway. It's told in Susanna's (Alyssa Milano) POV. Set a few weeks after the movie.   
  
Empty Places   
  
Every sound startles me now, the tiniest noise causes me to nearly jump out of my skin; some sounds are worse than others, a car backfiring, the sound of boots against hardwood or, God forbid, a gunshot. That horrible night always lurks in my brain, poisoning my thoughts and ruling my every action; from the time I awake in the morning to the time I lay back to sleep at night, those events linger on the folds of my memory, reminding me constantly to watch my step, to never forget. When I sleep, those times have become less and less over the days, I relive those terrifying hours in the basement with my once true love Dan, fearing for my life and listening to the gunshots that ended many other lives. Lives of people that I had only met once but seemed so alive, too alive to now be buried six feet under.   
  
Every time I close my eyes I see the barrel of a gun, pointed before my face, the metal, warm from being recently fired, pressing against my forehead as I plead from my life, praying that I wasn't going to die in the basement of a place I had barely been three hours. Surrounded by death and blood, bodies and pain, alone with a killer and a lover, hiding despite his promises to protect me. Hot tears rolling down my cheeks, pleading, begging not to die...  
  
Then I awaken, covered in sweat and tears, lips moving silent, reciting my pleas. "Please, please don't kill me...I promise I won't tell anyone..." Begging, only to be saved by the man I thought I knew, the man who had arranged for the whole nightmare to happen, the man who called for his family to be slaughtered. The man who said he loved me as he pointed the same gun at me, telling me I could have saved myself, that I shouldn't have looked back...   
  
But I do look back, every second of my waking life is spent glancing over my shoulder, making sure that he didn't survive, that he isn't following me, waiting to finish what he started. But Dan is dead, for I pulled the trigger...following his instructions: "Just point and shoot." Every second I feel the gun, heavy in my hands, shaking as I attempt to defend myself, never thinking that I would ever have to kill someone, especially not the person that I had trusted, loved, confided in.   
  
So it is no surprise that every noise startles me, rehashing memories that have yet to die and never will, reminding me of huddling alone in the basement, arms wrapped around Dan as he commanded me to be silent, listening to screams and gun shots, feet pounding against the roof above me, people trying to get away. My own screams strangle in my throat, telling myself that the tiniest noise will give us away, leaving us dead, bleeding on the cold cement floor. Trying to tell myself that I would survive, I would get out of this and live to tell the tale.  
  
But I always thought that I'd walk out with Dan, instead of his nearly dead brother, Justin, who visits me nearly every day, checking up and me and making sure that I'm still hanging. Which, I am, but just barely. He doesn't understand my fear of noises, there is no way that he could for he was hidden in a closet with a gun, far from the brutal slaughter that was happening directly above my head. The horrible, nightmarish noises that ring in my ears....  
  
I hear them even now, as I lay alone in bed, unable to sleep and waiting the hours dwindle, counting down until morning, covers pulled tightly around my body, up to my chin. The newest addition to my apartment, my brave pound-dog that I got for protective days ago, does not stir so I know the noises are in my head once again. But that does not stop me from tossing the covers away, slipping slowly out of bed and creeping across the room, going to the source of the sounds, my empty apartment, the closets and bathroom.   
  
I had not expected there to be anything lurking behind the doors, in the dark, waiting for me to shut my eyes. I remind myself that Dan is dead, and those that truly pulled the triggers are as well, there is nothing left to get me in the night. There is nothing there but empty closets, empty bathroom, empty kitchen and I list these things off as I walk back into my bedroom, peeking behind the door and underneath the bed. Empty, everywhere is empty.   
  
The sounds continue, but there are nothing but empty places. 


End file.
